An untitled story that I'm working on.

[PiemasterXL]

A bit of background before we begin: It's been around 50 years since the first big nuclear war, nuclear winter is in full swing. Takes place in Scandinavia, since much of Northern-Europe was ignored by those who were chucking the nukes around.

 

Here you go :D:

 

I: The Lightbearers

 

The caravan was composed of refugees and deserters from Aarhus and had been trudging through the snow-thick paths that lead south, the winds howled and pelted these broken souls with icy rain. They fled the city four days ago with only thick-furred beasts of burden to pull their trailers and wagons ahead, none of them expected to outrun the kronor forces, but fear still overcame them when engines could be heard closing in on them.

 

Pairs of snowmobiles roared through the trees on each side of the caravan and spun around back onto the path to cut them off. Through the tormenting weather one of the caravan leaders could be seen waving his arms at the foremost of the snowmobiles. The engines died and soldiers climbed off their machine steeds bearing weapons, two approached the caravan leader who had fallen to his knees and began to what could only be guessed as begging for mercy.

 

The soldiers looked down at him through masks, featureless save for eyes, forged from various metals. There was a sharp crack and the soldiers left the man sprawled across the ice and snow bleeding. Larger vehicles grumbled up behind the convoy and startled the pack-animals, who were now untethered from the wagons and bleated into the forest. Out of these larger vans came dozens of more soldiers.

 

The caravan wagons were forced closer together and pushed over. Those inside were ordered to stay, those who tried to exit were shot. People screamed and shouted as they were herded into the center of the overturned wagons and gunfire barked as bold refugees fled.

 

The soldier who had shot the caravan leader stood on a overturned tree to oversee the cleansing; he lifted his mask to reveal a pair of grubby goggles over a crimson balaclava. The other man who had accompanied him at the impromptu execution approached him, “There are more ahead, Lyse” he said.

 

Lyse grinned and looked to him, “We will catch them, let us enjoy this moment for now and give thanks to the Lord”. The soldier saluted and waved his arm through the air once, the pyre-makers encircled the wagons armed with fuel tanks and fire-throwers, and the cries of the refugees were drown out by flames.

 

Lyse gathered the men and they took kneel before their chaplain. Violent winds whipped against their uncovered faces as they removed their metal masks and helmets. Lyse also took off his headgear and reached to his chain belt, from which he grasped in his hands a weathered tome.

 

“By blazoned crown and eternal fire we cleanse the souls of these heathens in the name of the Lord” He shouted, “Feel the warmth of this blaze upon your skin, it is the very same heat that guides us all in the depths. The eternal fire of our Lord is unattainable by men, it is pure and unwavering. Yet in his infinite mercy he grants us the power to conjure these petty flames, and for that we are indebted no matter how insignificant they may seem compared to those which he dwells in”.

 

As the sermon drew to a close the soldiers mounted-up and motored forward in search of the other part of the refugee convoy, and as the last of the vehicles left the area the storm faltered, as if it could smell the smoldering corpses.

 

***

 

Sergeant Mihails fumbled with the bright orange lighter through his thick-gloved hands and cursed to himself. His hands were shaking more than usual now, the eventful morning had left him on edge. After the first group of refugees were absolved the kronor split their force at a fork in the road some miles ahead. Just his luck, the half he was split into met a pair of large fallen trees lying across the road, and the soldiers set to work with axes and chainsaws.

 

There was a strange stillness in the air and it seemed silent even with the hacking and buzzing of the soldiers. His thumb finally hit the sweet spot and a small flame rose from the lighter and Mihails gave thanks to the Lord. The sergeant was able to take one deep inhale of his cigarette before a crossbow bolt punched out of the forest and struck him in the face, his head snapped backwards from the force and he collapsed into the snow.

 

Mihails' death was masked by the roaring of the chainsaws and another bolt was discharged from the trees, this time striking a soldier in the back of the head. As the second man fell a third cried out as a missile impaled him through his back. Several nearby soldiers looked to him as he fell to his knees grasping the splintered bolt protruding through his chest.

 

“Ambush!” a kronor shouted before he too was brought down by a shot, the bolt punched through his breastplate and sunk into his heart. As the unarmed soldiers near the fallen trees scrambled into cover and towards their weapons more missiles hissed at them. The kronor shot blindly into the forest, each time one of their comrades fell they aimed in a different direction.

 

The back doors to one of the armored vans burst open and a pyre-maker along with several other soldiers doubled out. Smaller trees and saplings were reduced to splinters and the kronor threw grenades and fired heavy caliber rounds into the surrounding forest. The pyre-maker, wearing armor that looked fitting for an ancient knight, neared one of the sides of the road and let loose a plume of fire indiscriminately into the bushes and trees.

 

A pair of figures who had were previously concealed burst out into the open, one of them had been caught in the arc of flames and was on the ground screaming. The second looked back at his flaming comrade and hesitated for a moment, he then was hit by a grenade launcher, his torso was blasted apart and painted the snow with gore.

 

***

 

II: The Witch

 

The sharp release of the needle was the best part in Siri's opinion, the brief steel prick, the sweet mixture of anticipation and anxiety, the fear of taking too much or too little. Then came the rush, and although it had become dull like weathered bark on a tree over the years, it still brought comfort to her. She dropped the needle to the floor and just sat beneath her set of wooden stairs that lead up from the basement. Once a daily ritual for Siri, her hobby was becoming increasingly hard to pursue after the kronor marched into Aarhus.

 

Siri stared to the other end of the dark basement, on the wall opposite of her was a swirling pool of gold and light. Faces floated across the pool twisting and contorting, some in agony while others in utter bliss. She often lost herself in the glittering vortex, staring at it for hours until the drugs began to wear thin in her veins. Many times Siri whispered at it but never she received a response, the faces continued to float on their way oblivious to her. But today there was something different about these apparitions. One stood out from the masses with eyes set right on Siri, and she locked her gaze with it.

 

The stairs creaked as she stumbled upwards and her pupils shrunk when the light of the first floor hit her face. An old lamp flickered on a bare desk accompanied by a set of wooden chairs where a man sat slumped over. His right hand was tapping on the desk with his fingers while his left gripped a small revolver, Siri bent lower as she reached the top of the stairs and made her way slowly to the door.

 

“Where do you think you're going?” the man grumbled and looked up to her with bloodshot eyes.

 

Siri gave him a glare, “Out” she said.

 

He grunted a laugh and scratched his temple with the barrel of the gun, “Not like I can stop you, is it?”

 

The euphoria had faded quickly out of the basement and now Siri faced her stark reality as she made her way through the damp and dirtied alleys of a dying city. She was well away from the areas of kronor interest, but the evidence of their occupation was nearly everywhere. In darkened streets and piles of rubble lay slain soldiers, spent brass casings and ruined weaponry and barricades littered the roads. Occasionally there would stand a small shrine of the eternal fire guarded by soldiers, the kronor had erected them all across Aarhus. They were not at home without their flames or God.

 

 

***

 

Matthius leaned back in his chair with that smirk he always wore on his face when in the custody of the Aarhus authorities, but this time he was not in the hands of the police, but rather the steely gazes of the Templars of the Eternal Flame, and he had no idea just how much danger he was in. The Templars had cold, hard faces and their eyes were scanning every detail of Matthius' tattooed face in search for anything that would give him away.

 

“Where did you first meet this woman?” One of them asked dryly.

 

The smirk on Matthias' face widened into a grin, “a den” he replied.

 

“Which one?” the Templar asked.

 

“Does it really matter?”

 

“Yes”

 

Matthius sighed and leaned back forward, the tip of his nose came under the ray of light that was being shot from the lamp hanging above, “Some god awful flat in the north sector, I went there for some cupid's ash”.

 

“She was there when you arrived?”

 

“Yeah, she was just bumming around. Had that look in her eye, you know?”

 

The Templar shook his head slightly, “No, I don't”.

 

“She was a looker then, not sure about now. We got to talking and right off the bat she hit me up for a bag of ivve”.

 

“And did you acquire these narcotics for her?”

 

“Yeah” Matthius leaned back and ran his fingers down the open zipper of his jacket, “over the couple months she stayed at my place she got hooked on the stuff. Not surprising, but she was really bad”.

 

“How so?”

 

“She'd shoot up in a dark closet, stay in there for most the day. Sometimes I could hear her muttering s*** as I walked by. Whenever I tried to open the door, however, she would freak out and start screaming at imaginary people, telling them to hide I always thought”.

 

“Why did she leave you?”

 

“I couldn't stand her anymore, threw her ass out and what little s*** she kept with her”.

 

The Templar tilted his head slightly, “And where is she now?”

 

“Saturn”.

 

***

 

Saturn was on the the bed staring at the wobbly ceiling-fan spinning above when he winced slightly in pain, “Ow, not so much teeth dear” he moaned. The blonde girl looked up at him with her eyes, her face still downwards. She pulled her face away and gagged a bit as Saturn's dick slid out of her throat.

 

“My mouth's full of them”, she coughed and wiped her lips, smearing the ruby lipstick across her cheek, with one hand while keeping a firm grip on Saturn with the other, “kinda hard to avoid 'em”.

 

There was a knock on the bedroom door and the woman rolled her eyes at Saturn.

 

“Occupied” Saturn said loudly.

 

A muffled voice spoke through the door, “Jona is at the front, sir”.

 

“what the f*** does he want? Tell him we already paid this month”.

 

“He's not here for that he says, looks scared shitless, nervous or something”.

 

Saturn sighed, winked at the woman, licked his thumb and wiped the lipstick off her cheek with it, “you wait right here dear” he said as he dragged his pants back up.

 

“I'm thirsty” she whined.

 

Saturn reached the door and opened it, “f*** off my way” he told the 'bouncer' in front of him.

 

There was a pair of armored trucks outside in the street with more than a dozen kronor soldiers waiting around them, Saturn could see as he came down the stairs and onto the main floor of his domain. Jona Ole, lieutenant of the Aarhus police force, stood on the porch in a long coat with his arms crossed. The bouncer wasn't lying, he looked terrified.

 

Saturn stepped outside with nothing on but an undershirt and jeans, the chilled winds blew his long hair into his face. He took a deep breath as he stepped towards the policeman and gave him an angry look. Usually Jona was not your usual hot-tempered corrupt cop, he was the cold and manipulative type, but something was seriously bothering him now.

 

“How can I help you offic-” Saturn began, but was cut off.

 

“Shut the f*** up” Jona whispered and abruptly stepped forward, “Do you know who those men are behind me?”

 

Saturn looked over the policeman's shoulder, “kronor” he said simply.

 

“Good, you aren't completely wasted yet” Jona looked over his shoulder to the soldiers and then back to Saturn.

 

“What's got your panties in a tangle?” Saturn raised an eyebrow.

 

“And do you know who sent them?”

 

“No”

 

Jona closed his eyes and began to rub the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “The f***ing Templars” he hissed through his teeth.

 

The color from Saturn’s face drained in an instant and his eyes widened, “what?”

 

“And you better believe I literally pulled all my weight, called in as many f***in' favors I could, to ensure I was the one to ring your f***ing doorbell, count yourself pretty damn lucky it wasn’t one of them”. Jona thrust his thumb back at the kronor.

 

“What's going on?”

 

“They're are looking for someone, and you can sacrifice your balls to whatever god you pray to later, because it's not you”.

 

“Who?”

 

“Woman named Siri, she's addicted to ivve”.

 

“She also has a pretty tight snat-”

 

“This isn't the time, asshat” Jona barked and grabbed Saturn by the shoulders, “do you know how much s*** we're in?”

 

Saturn nodded slowly.

 

“Good” Jona let go and stepped down the front steps, “Get some clothes on, I'll not have them take you half-naked” he said looking down at the pavement.

 

“What do you mean 'take' Jona?” Saturn asked.

 

Jona shook his head as he walked away and the masked kronor looked at him as he neared the vans. With a quick motion of his hand they advanced on the den.

 

***

 

III: The Einherjar

 

They lost the battle, botched the ambush, but that didn’t mean they all had to die in that forest. Hagen stood straight behind the trunk of a large tree with his arms pressed against his sides. The kronor searching for he and his comrades were crashing through the woods on foot and snowmobile, a pair of them walked past the tree Hagen was hiding behind and he shot both of them with his silenced pistol.

 

A muffled yell of alarm came from the opposite side of the trunk as the two soldiers collapsed into the snow. From the corner of his eye Hagen saw the glint of a rifle scope, and an area of the tree next to his neck exploded into splinters as the gun barked. Hagen dived away onto the ground before another shot punched into the bark and sent pieces flying.

 

Scanning the brush for the rifleman, Hagen spotted him and fired twice in his direction but both shots missed as the kronor hopped down the large rocks he had been perched on. Two kronor rushed at him from behind with bayonets fixed on their weapons and Hagen only had a brief moment to roll away from one of their stabs. The steel blade bit into the icy ground and the soldier directing it grunted as he tried to pull it out but Hagen shot him in the face. As the first fell to the ground limp the second kronor thrust his bayonet and managed to pin Hagen to the ground by one of his pant-legs.

 

There was brief slice of pain that ran up his left leg as Hagen kicked the soldier away with the other, the kronor tumbled backwards and fell on his ass. As the man picked himself up a pair of figures climbed up the small ledge behind and shot at Hagen. Rounds whizzed past him and with a grunt of pain he tore his pant-leg free of the bayonet still in the ground.

 

Hagen rolled away and behind the tree as he kept an eye on the weaponless soldier nearby. He picked himself up and reached in his coat for another pistol clip, there were two left. His gun was not on him anymore, it was at the feet of the soldier trying to free his rifle from the ground. Hagen came at and tackled the man before he could react and they tumbled down a small slope, their descent was stopped at they hit the trunk of another tree. They wrested briefly but the kronor was stronger and soon gained an upper hand.

 

Hagen slammed his face into the kronor's metal mask with a grunt and pushed away at him. The battle around the two ceased to exist as they concentrated solely on their foe. Again Hagen bashed with his face and blood spattered against the mask, the kronor was dazed for a moment but it was enough for Hagen to push him off to the side.

 

Pulling himself up by one of the roots of the tree Hagen unclasped his hatchet from his belt and swung down at the soldier. The man brought his forearm just in time to deflect most of the force but the hatchets blade still bit into flesh and bone. The kronor roared in pain and shoved away with the weight of his body and Hagen lost his balance and summer-salted backwards down the slope more.

 

He hit even ground after being greeted by some thorny bushes and rocks along the way. Hagen groaned as he arced his back off one uncomfortable stone, the soldier was making his way down with one bleeding arm clutched to his side. Hagen moved his hands around him feeling for his hatchet but wasn’t able to find it before a crossbow bolt hissed from out of sight and stuck into the soldiers ribs.

 

The missile punched him back, made him lose his balance and he slid down. He landed near Hagen and had no time to prevent the hatchet from hacking into his skull. Hagen yanked his weapon out of the twitching soldier and looked above for any sign of his allies.

 

 

IV: The Fanatic

 

Another cold night hovered over Aarhus, the city was poorly-lit by fires and gas-powered generators. Ever since the kronor accepted the surrender of the city a curfew had been in effect, enforced by the soldiers. Jona was not granted his evening rest at home, not tonight. Instead as he walked from work to his apartment block he was met with templars, their meeting was brief as they said nothing but gave Jona an envelope and left in their vehicle instead.

 

Inside the envelope were a set of written instructions and a lanyard bearing the templar medallion. At dusk he set out from his home as it read and whenever a kronor patrol approached him he showed them the medallion. It was an odd thing that happened to the soldiers when they caught sight of the seal, the lower ranked grunts grew pale and avoided eye-contact with Jona afterwards while the officers stiffened their posture, none of them had further queries after they saw it and all of them let him proceed without incident. Jona was glad to see he was not the only one terrified by agents of the eternal flame.

 

“The old world is gone” The templar said simply as he and Jona overlooked the city from atop an abandoned office building, “but even so there are those who delve in the ruins and try to revive it, and with their elder ideals they will bring back the very things that brought us to our knees”.

 

The templar, whose name was Kraegor Marso, reached into his greatcoat and pulled out a pair of cigarettes and a lighter, then offered one to Jona with a gesture. Jona took it and tried not to look too intimidated with a slight grin.

 

“I thought a templar refrained from lesser pleasures” he joked, but was afraid of the response he might get.

 

Marso lit his cigarette, handed the lighter to Jona, and smirked as his eyes ran over the roofs of the city. “You have done your homework I see” He answered.

 

Jona shook his head and exhaled smoke, “hardly, rumors and gossip I hear from the streets and colleagues”.

 

The templar chuckled and looked to Jona, “I know the fear you're feeling” he said, “and it is not uncommon, in fact its the kind of reaction we templars work hard to create”.

 

Jona kept his gaze on the twinkling city and nodded, “I understand, it is better to be feared than loved” he replied. Admiration gleamed in the templar's eyes for a moment and he smiled.

 

“What am I doing here?” Jona asked bluntly.

 

“I will not bore you with details” Marso took another sip from the cigarette, “You're someone the order can use”.

 

“Like a tool?”

 

Marso nodded, “Yes, a rather effective tool at that. It doesn’t matter how you did it, but you caught whiff of us going to Saturn, and you approached us before we did”.

 

“His trust is hard to earn, things would not have gone as smooth if I had not” Jona said.

 

“Your actions show me show me things about you, things that make you attractive to our order”.

 

“Go on”.

 

“I'm going to be frank with you, because I know you will appreciate it”, Marso's voice took a serious tone, “I'm not offering you a career change, and I offer this only once”.

 

“And what do you offer?” Jona asked after a tense silence.

 

Marso flicked his half-smoked cigarette off the side of the building and watched it float to the ground, “Salvation” he said. The word punched Jona in the gut.

 

Jona stood silent with his eyes searching wildly on the pavement ten-stories below for an answer, as if it were the dying embers at the end of a cigarette.

 

***

 

Siri slithered out of the bed, slipped her pants back on and gathered her things while the nameless man snored in his sleep, she didn’t care much for names anymore. She searched his flat and eventually found his wallet and the paper bag of ivve he had waved in her face the night before in his coat. The wallet was dropped to the floor, now relieved of what little money was stored within as Siri grabbed her shoes and made her leave.

 

It had been a good week and a half since she went 'out' from Sarna's place and she was tempted not to return, but she had grown fond of her space under the stairs. Sarna was a hardass, yelled a lot when he was drunk and broke things which was why his apartment was so bare. Siri had taken a liking to him, a rare occurrence, after a few late-night encounters and this was the longest she had even been away from him since they met. But as much as she liked the man she still feared him.

 

Sarna's bicycle was gone as Siri neared the apartment entrance and the locked door confirmed that he was out. She fished her key he had given to her out of her pants pocket, unlocked the door and entered. The comfort of being home died when she went to the basement and found a piece of paper taped to the concrete wall under the stairs.

 

'Siri', it read, 'Police came today and said they needed info on you. I'm going down to their building to see whats going on'.

 

Sarna always dated his notes he wrote to her, this one was written four days ago. Siri wasnt bothered, the man had run-ins with the law before. But her worries began to break through the numbing shield that was the ivve, when he did not return each day.

 

***

 

Jona had never been in a functioning civilian car before. Usually cities spared the few working vehicles they had for police and military uses only, but over the last week Jona was shown that the Templars were nothing but resourceful. The engine sent his heart up his throat as it roared into life and the driver next to him, a man named Hjalmar, smirked at Jona's apprehensive face.

 

“First time, is it babe?” he said smoothly, “I'll go soft”.

 

These were the first words he had said directly to Jona, and even then he seemed like he was addressing someone else. Hjalmar's face was adorned with a beard of the 'friendly mutton-shop' style, but there was nothing friendly about him. Jona kept quiet as the driver flared the engine again and drove out the Templar-compound gates.

 

“Who's first?” Hjalmar asked with a hoarse voice.

 

“Saturn” Jona kept his eyes outside the car.

 

“That skinny fellow we had last week?”

 

Jona nodded, “He's got two full-time guards, can't say who else will be there”.

 

The drive was silent from then on until they reached the last kronor checkpoint before their first stop. Hjalmar flashed his medallion to the soldiers, “I'll drop you off before we get there, you head in acting like you want that tribute they give you”.

 

“And where will you be?” Jona asked hesitantly.

 

“Don't you worry about me, darling” Hjalmar smirked again then drove through the checkpoint.

 

***

 

It was hard to forget he wasn’t a officer anymore, Jona wasn’t given the chance to collect his things from his office or say goodbyes, even though he had disdain for the majority of his former colleagues. With the templar badge tucked under his shirt he walked towards Saturn's den, the usual thick-muscled guard was leaning against the side of the building and nodded to Jona as he walked past.

 

Saturn was on the first floor lounging on a sofa with that blonde prostitute of his, she had a dark cherry colored lipstick on today, and only god knew how much of it was smeared around the base of Saturn's cock, Jona mused to himself silently. Saturn looked away from the television to see who it was and the smile left his face once he did.

 

Since the second day he had known Saturn, Jona had wanted to put a bullet in his brain, but they had developed a sick symbiotic relationship before the urge overcame him. Over the years Jona had grown friendly with him, or at least cordial. That's why Jona's hand shook as he pulled out the silenced pistol from inside his coat. He shot the woman in the back of the head first so her screams wouldn’t alert the guards, then he trained the wobbling gun on Saturn.

 

The prostitute had splashed onto the drug-lords face as he sat there with wide-eyes. Jona pulled the trigger again, the bullet struck between Saturn's nose and his right eye. His hand ceased its shaking once Saturn had fell backwards and blood pooled around his head on the hardwood floor.